Falling By a Sword Unless
by Shorty Carter
Summary: -Last Chapter!- What if dreams were true? What if they revealed bits of your past, and of your present and future? If that happens, then she is in real trouble. First story in Trilogy
1. Real Nightmares

Unless...   
By: Shorty Carter  
  
Everyone deserves to live their life without pain or worries, fear or anger. But some, the unlucky ones in life, live with it all. They go through life living their nightmares, their upbringing as a child showing each and every day. Some unlucky few get lucky; some live with this saying, "My life is Hell." But there are those few, the rare ones, who are caught in the middle. They live their lives like the lucky, but deep inside all Hell is breaking loose. Some live this way till they die, while others burst when it becomes too much. And that is when the true meaning of 'Hell' can be used. Because when that happens, it is Hell. And there is very little we can do to stop it. Unless.  
  
_She was running, her legs churning beneath her, fire and pain coursing through her veins. Her lungs were on fire, yet she kept running. Down the deserted street towards her current home. Stealing a quick look behind her, she screamed. She ran faster, trying to get away. She reached the steps, taking them two at a time. Suddenly a hand grabbed her, and she fell...  
_  
Traveler Coville woke up in a cold sweat, fear lacing itself through her body. Her legs burned, her lungs smoldering. Breathing hard, she gazed into the dark room with frightened green eyes. Her fiery red hair, trademark of her Irish background, swung around her head as she turned around in her bed, looking, waiting. A hand touched her shoulder, and she nearly woke up the entire city of New York City.   
"Woah! Call down dere, Travel! What's got ya so scared?" Asia asked, her dark eyes looking into Travelers green ones. Things came together, and Traveler realized it was just a dream.   
"Nuttin', Asia. Jus' a bad dream. Ya can go back ta sleep," Travel said, relaxing a bit. Asia looked at her carefully, then sighed and went back to her bed. Traveler lay awake the rest of the night, afraid to go back to sleep for fear of a repeat of the feared dream that had haunted her for so long.  
  
"Heya boys! How's tings goin'?" I yelled, walking up to my friends. They were all guys, rough and strong, but really softy's under all that muscle. They grinned, yelling their hey's and hi's at me.   
"Heya Traveler! Where youse been lately?" A short, dark haired boy asked, talking through his cigar. A stack of papes, as we call them, sat beside him while one lay open in his lap.   
"All ova, Race. I ain't got dis name fer nuttin'!" I said, grinning. Traveler was indeed my name, Traveler Coville if you wanted to get personal. And a traveler I was. I never stayed put long, always going from one territory to another. All over New York City, I was well known for my temper, sharp tongue, and joking attitude. I also know a wide arrange of words in three languages. Though Russian is my favorite, I also know Swedish and German. If you get me mad, you'll be swore at in the most colorful of ways, and you won't understand a word.   
"So, learn anytin's new at da Bronx?" A tall kid with an eye patch over his left eye asked.   
"Ya. I's finally learned the word for hole. Now I can call you, 'asna grop', insteada, 'asna!'" That got the boys going.   
"Keepin' outta trouble ova heah, I's hope," a boy with a bandana and cowboy hat around his neck asked, joining the group.   
"Why Jacky-Boy! I's surprised! Are ya sayin' I's can't behave? Would youse like a demonstration a all I's learned? Cause ye're askin' fer one, ya esel!" Jacky-Boy, Cowboy, Jack Kelly, whatever you called him, he blushed.   
"Youse been around Spot again, haven' ya?" he asked, smiling.   
"No, but I had a fight wit 'im again. He's still don' like me." Spot Conlon, leader of the Brooklyn newsies, was against girl newsies. He thinks that there is some law that declares girls' non-able to do anything but be wives, girlfriends, and housekeepers. I'll show him.   
"Annuda one? Didn' ya jus' have one last week?" Race asked.   
"Ya, but he don' seem ta get it through dat thick head a his. I's sick a him. Everytyme I go an' sell papes dere, he's gotta speak 'is mind. I wish he'd jus' shut up," I said, walking up to where the clerk was and buying 100 papes. "So, who wants to sell wid a goil who is hot headed and has a sharp tongue?" Many shouts went up, making me laugh. The only thing worth living in this world was them. Without them, I'd already be gone. Out of all the New York City newsies, I like Manhattan best. "Well! Glad ta sees I'm so loved here! I - pick - Racetrack!" Disappointed groans sounded, and I laughed even more. "Boys, boys! I's gonna be here fer two weeks! I'll get around ta all a youse!" Racetrack grinned, grabbing his papes up from beside him.   
"Racetracks as usual?" I asked, grinning at him.   
"Youse bet! Come on, I's gotta place a bet on da foist!" He grabbed my hand and practically dragged me to the races, ignoring my shouts that I could walk on my own. Immediately he went and placed his bet, holding his ticket like it was the most prized thing in the world. I studied the horses, picking one out and placing a bet as well. Then I scanned the headlines, looking for a good starter.   
"Mayor and wife fight! Divorce date set!" It wasn't a very good one, but it sold a good 10 papes. "Tank ya kindly, sir!"   
"Travel! Da race is bout ta start!" Race yelled, walking over to the rail. I followed, standing next to him as the horses were loaded into the gates. We only had seconds to wait before the herd broke, pounding down the dirt track towards the wire. Race yelled his horse's name, as if it would help the horse run. As the herd rounded the stretch, African Mist, the horse my bet was placed on, challenged Once Wild, the horse Race had bet on. The two fought for the lead, both of their jockeys' hunched over their backs to gain some distance. The wire drew nearer, and I found my voice mixing with Race's. Suddenly African Mist jumped ahead, just in time to cross the wire first. I whooped and hollered, then quieted when I saw Race's face.   
"Good pick. Say, would you mind tellin' me how you always get such good horses?" he asked, grinning at me. I sighed, happy that he wasn't mad at me.   
"Sure. Come on, I need to go collect." We made our way to the betting box, talking excitedly about how to make a good bet. I handed the man in the box my ticket, receiving 6 dollars. I had asked for all ones, and when I got them, I split my winnings with Race.   
"Heah," I said, handing him three dollars. He looked wide-eyed at me, mouth- hanging open.  
"No, I can't take ye're money! You won it, fair an' square," he said, shaking his head at me.   
"Racetrack Higgins, take the money! What are friends fo?" I said, shoving the money into his hands. He tried to give it back, but all I did was step away.   
"It's your money! You keep it!" he yelled, stepping towards me. Something sparked inside of me, a fear so great my heart began racing. I stepped away again, fear in my green eyes. Race looked at me, clearly confused.   
"Travel? What's da mattah?" he asked, stepping towards me again. It was too much; the fear was too great. I spun on my heels and sped off, my breathing faster than normal with fear. Race came after me, yelling for me to stop. But I didn't. It was like my dream was haunting me during the day, not only at night. Finally I stopped, hands on my knees as I frantically tried to fill my lungs. Race was no where in sight, so I continued selling. When he finally showed up, I had sold all of my papes, and was one dollar richer.   
"Bout time youse showed up! Sold all a me papes already!" I said, the former fear gone from my eyes.   
"What was that all about? Why'd youse run away?" he asked, worry in his deep brown eyes. I couldn't tell him the truth, nobody would understand.   
"I though I saw someone from me past. Dat's all. No worry's. So, shall we go to Tibby's?" I asked, hoping to get off that painful subject. Race stared at me for a moment, then shook his head.   
"Sure. I can sell da rest of dese on da way." With that we headed to Tibby's talking about everything except for the incident.  
  
_She was running again, her legs churning beneath her, fire and pain coursing through her veins. Her lungs were on fire, yet she kept running. Down the deserted street towards the Lodging House. Stealing a quick look behind her, she screamed. She ran faster, trying to get away. She reached the steps, taking them two at a time. Suddenly a hand grabbed her, and she fell, into the hands of her pursuer. He grinned at her, and she could smell the stale smell of liquor and cigars. He threw her to the ground, laughing when she cried out in pain. He took a step towards her, and she moved back. His face was dark, so dark she couldn't make out his features. He laughed again, taking another step towards her. She moved back again, but not quick enough. He lunged for her, the sharp, cold feel of a knife piercing her side. And she screamed..._  
  
Traveler shot straight up in bed, fear plastered across her face. She was met with the faces of her friends, all worried and confused at her outburst. She was breathing hard, her legs and lungs smoldering. She quickly looked at her side, relieved to find no blood, but shocked to see a bruise there. She didn't even notice the tears streaming down her face, and Traveler Renee Coville never cried. Not even when she was forced to live on the streets by the orphanage caretaker when she was four. She felt someone wrap their arms around her, and she nearly screamed again.   
"Travel! Calm down Travel! I ain't gonna hoit ya," the quiet, soothing voice of Mush said, rocking back and forth with her in his arms. Traveler cried, sobs racking her body. The others just stood there, shocked to see their tough friend so weak. After a bit, her sobbing quieted, and Jack was the first one to brake the silence.   
"Travel? Ya mind tellin' us what's got youse so upset?" he whispered, afraid that a loud voice would spook her more. Traveler looked up at all of her friends, people who had been by her since she was just a little girl. She looked down, making the hardest decision of her life.   
"I guess youse guys desoive ta know. It all started when..."


	2. An Open Window, To Hell

Unless...  
Chapter 2  
By: Shorty Carter

He slammed his drink down, cursing loudly. Running a hand through his thick black hair, he cursed again.   
"She's remembering. Dang, I thought she had forgotten it all," he said to himself, blinking his blue eyes.   
"She did forget. But now she's rememberin'. You knew this would happen, you just didn't let yourself believe it," another man said, sitting next to the first one.   
"Yah, I guess I did. But how are we going to get away with this? I mean, how could a girl, now 17, remember something that happened when she was 4? I mean, sure she saw it, but I've killed in front of tons of kids and never been caught. This can't be happening," he groaned, putting his face into his hands.   
"Well James, it is. So what are you gonna do about it?" the second man asked, glaring at the man called James. James looked up, a look of pure evil in his blue eyes.   
"I'm gonna fix it, Sam."  
  
"I can't believe you didn' tell us soonah!" Jack said, running his hand through his greasy blonde hair. I looked down, somehow having known this would happen.   
"I's sorry I didn' tell youse soonah. I taught dey were jus dreams," I said, not looking up.   
"Dat an da man you just described sounds like a man I'd rather not know. What you'd say he looks like?" Jack asked, looking at me.   
"Dis tyme I couldn't make him out. But last week I saw him in me dreams, an he had thick black hair an blue eyes. He's a drinkah, an likes to smoke cigahs. One time I saw him wit someone else, annuda guy."   
"What dis odah guy look like?"   
"Tall, thin, brown hair, dark eyes. Why? You know him too?" I asked, looking up cautiously.  
"Damn. Damn crap. Ya, I do. I know 'im a bit too well." He turned and looked at the rest of the guys. "Looks like our little friends Jamie and Sammy are back." A whispered shock went through the boys, some of the younger ones hiding behind the older.   
"I though they were put away for good last time, Jack?" Mush said, still holding me.   
"Remembah how dey got busted last time? When Embah saw dem kill dat East Side goil? An when they found out she had seen them, they went afta her?" Jack asked, looking at the boys.   
"Yah, but dey were caught before they could get her. And that was a year ago. What's it got to do with her dreams?" Race asked, confused.   
"We're going to find out. But right now, we're going to take a visit to Brooklyn, and wake Spot up. Traveler, you're coming with. If they know you remember, they'll come after you. Let's see, Race, Boots, Mush, Blink, you're coming with, too. Everybody else, watch your backs. We'll be back," Jack said, helping me up. I slipped into a pair of trousers, leaving my nightshirt on when I pulled on my suspenders. Going barefoot - best for runing - I waited for the rest of the boys. Finally we left, taking the long journey to Brooklyn in the middle of the night. I was wide- awake, eyeing the shadows and alleys nervously. Jack saw how nervous I was, coming and putting his arm around me.   
"Don' you worry, Travel. Nobody's going to hoit ya as long as you got us around. Not even ol' Sam and James."   
"But how do you know them so well?" I asked, still eyeing the dark areas.   
"You'll find out soon enough." We made it to Brooklyn around 1 in the morning, quietly entering the lodging house and going up the stairs. We went strait to Spot's room, banging on the door. The door opened, revealing a very sleepy Spot. He took one look at me and scowled, scanning the rest of the boys the same way.   
"What are you doing here? And at this un- Godly hour of the night?" he demanded, focusing his gaze on me. I stood straighter, staring at him the same way he stared at me.   
"Where's Ember?" Jack asked, ignoring the staring contest going on between Spot and me.  
"She's gone. Missing. Been missing since last week. Why?" He asked, still staring at me. I didn't blink.   
"Crap. May we come in? This may take a bit." Spot nodded, breaking the contest and opening the door more.  
  
Four hours and a number of fights and arguments later, we all sat around Spots room. Sometime during our disagreements Spot's four most trusted newsies had joined us. I sat against a wall, listening to them fight and bicker about my dreams and this girl called Ember as I nursed a cut on my face I had gotten from a fight with Spot. To tell you the truth, the window looked worse from my run in with it that I did.   
"I still don' believe that Sam and Jamie are back. And by the way, how do you know? You can't really believe her dreams, can you?" Yankee asked from his spot on the floor.   
"I've been having these dreams since I was four, but I don't know why. There always the same: two guys talking in a bar, then the scene changes to me running down the street from someone, and he ends up throwing me to the ground outside my current home and killing me. I know every detail about my dreams, even the place where it happened," I said, removing the cloth from my scarred cheek. I glared at Spot, mentally shouting at him for giving me this lovely new addition to my face.   
"You know the place where you were killed?" Walnut asked from his spot next to Yankee.  
"Ya. It looks like that old abandoned factory in Harlem. Why?" I asked, replacing the cloth to my face.   
"That's where Ember used to go to meet her boyfriend. Yankee, what was his name?" Spot asked.   
"Slit I think. He's a Harlem newsy, through and through. But not many people like him. He's mean to the bone, not one to be messed with. I don't know what Ember saw in him," Yankee said, a look of disgust on his face.   
"What's he look like?" Mush asked from his spot to my left.   
"Tall, thin, brown hair, dark eyes. He's an older newsy, in his twenty's, but he looks like a 17 year old. Why?"   
"That's what the second man looked like," I whispered, trying to keep my composure. It's hard to look tough when something is scaring the crap out of you.   
"You positive?" Spot asked, the look on his face clearly not believing me.   
"I think I'd tell you the truth in this matter. I don't lie to my friends, unlike some other person I know," I growled, glaring at Spot.   
"At least I have friends. You don't even have a permanent home, you worthless slut!"   
"Take that back, you bastard!" I lunged at him, knocking him to the ground and pummeling the crap out of him. Nobody called Traveler Coville a worthless slut and got away with it. I started swearing in Russian and German, not caring if everyone in the lodging house could hear me. Spot fought back, giving me a nice black eye and a few new bruises. I added to his collection of multi-colored patches of skin as well. Jack and Walnut finally managed to pull me off of Spot, both struggling to hold me back.   
"Yeb Vas, asna grop!" I shouted, braking free of Jack and Walnut's hold to continue pummeling him. Finally they got me restrained, Jack, Walnut, Yankee and Race having to hold me down. I started talking in German, and it could be translated as, "Nobody calls Traveler a slut and lives to tell about it, you ass hole! I'll kill you! I'll soak ya so bad your ancestors will fell it!"   
"Whoa, calm down Travel! God, how many more fights are we gonna have before we figure something out," Race muttered, looking at the ceiling.   
"God, you throw a hard punch. Man, all that anger over one lousy word?" Spot asked, sitting up slowly. I tried to lunge at him, but too many people were holding me.   
"I guess you haven't learned yet, have you? Last time somebody called Traveler a slut, they ended up looking like a train had run them over. And that was just the slut. You call her something worse and you'll wish you were dead!" Boots said, looking at Spot.   
"Who was that person?" Spot asked.   
"Oscar Delancey. Morris before him."   
"Back to the matter at hand, how we gonna find Embah?" Jack asked, cautisouly letting go. I stomped away from them, going and sitting on the window ledge.   
"I've had me boy's scrounge Brooklyn already, and we've come up with nothing. I suggest we go talk to Fox, maybe he's seen her," Spot said, referring to the leader of Harlem.   
"Maybe. But right now, let's get some sleep. If we plan on doing anything tomorrow, we need some rest. Come on Traveler," Jack said, turning towards the open window. A light breeze came in through the open window, with no Traveler sitting there. Mush stood up and ran over to the window, looking out frantically for the girl. No luck.   
"Damn, they got her." Jack turned and looked at the Brooklyn leader, his eyes blazing with anger. "Enough proof for you, Spot?"


	3. Unanswered Questions

Unless...   
Chapter 3  
By: Shorty Carter  
  
Traveler muttered to herself as she walked the lonely streets of Brooklyn, licking her still bleeding lip. The moon was out, helping to light up the dark patches along the street, and help her keep an eye out for this Sam and Jamie everyone was talking about. She knew she shouldn't have left, at least without someone with her, but she couldn't stand one more minute with that jerk Conlon. Life was hard enough without having to deal with him.   
"So dis is what dey mean when dey say, "Hell on earth." Makes more sense, now dat I'm actually livin' it," she muttered to herself, watching the dark patches near the alleys. The hairs pricked on her neck, sending chills down her back. The odd feeling that someone was following her crept into her mind. Spinning around, she saw a shadow moving along in the dark patches. Someone else, not hiding himself was also coming down the street. Fear and panic gripped her, her heart racing. Turning, she bolted down the street, the shadow pursuing her.  
  
"Jacky-boy, I tink I found her!" Spot yelled into an alley, watching the two people running down the street from the corner of his eye. Jack came out, taking off after the girl and man running ahead of him. Spot followed, waving his cane.  
  
Traveler turned around and screamed, seeing three people instead of two following her. A glint of gold caught her eye from something one of the chasers was waving. But she ignored the familiar feeling she got when she saw it. Instinct told her to stay out of the shadows, in an open space where people would see her, where her friends would see her. Her legs and lungs felt like they were on fire, spreading throughout her entire body till she thought she was a flame. She ran straight past the Brooklyn Lodging House, instead turning into an alley she knew led directly to the Bridge.  
  
Sam was gaining on her, oblivious to the two newsies following him. He was following James' plans, and everything was going perfectly. He knew where she was headed, and what trap lie in wait for her there.  
  
"Soon, my lovely dear, soon you will feel pain no more. Slit serves me well, and I will get what I want. Soon I will have what I need, and you will no longer be of service to me," he whispered in her ear through gritted teeth, running the dull side of a knife along her cheek. She moved away from him, spitting in his face. He in turn slapped her, adding another red mark to match the one on her other cheek. "Stupid, stupid girl! Did you think that Slit actually loved you? You don't know the whole truth, my dear! Your beloved Slit is no more than a con-artist, a player to get what his master wants. And believe me, Sam, or Slit as you know him, will get what I want," he said, slicing a 'J' into her cheek.  
  
Shorty's Note: Yay! Da third chapter! And it leaves so many questions unanswered! A cliffy! HA! I know I'm evil. Just don't sue me! The forth chapter is in process, but in order for you to view it, I need 5 reviews. Not 10, 5. So please, review for those souls out there who don't know where the dang button is! Be kind! See ya! Peachy Bye! Peace Out!  
  
Shorty 


	4. Flood of Memories

Unless...  
Chapter 4  
By: Shorty Carter  
  
Traveler woke slowly, dazed and confused. She couldn't remember anything, not even her name. Then slowly memories started to trickle in like a slow moving stream. She remembered seeing her mother crying at night, then one day disappearing. She remembered the orphanage and being kicked out when it became too full. The painful memories of trying to make it on the streets, of almost dying. Then came the happy memories of a little boy finding her in an alley, cold and almost dead. How he took her in, gave her food and shelter, and friends. Memories rushed in a rapid river now, memories of leaving Manhattan and making friends all over New York City. Of fighting Spot, acquiring the name Traveler, and learning how to speak in different languages. Hellish memories of the nightmares that haunted her not only by night, but by day also. Then came the memories of the last couple days, flickering through her mind like lighting. She could remember waking up screaming; her friends worried faces. She could remember running from someone, like she had in her nightmares. And the short memory of something hard coming in contact with her head. That brought her to present times. She gazed around the barely lit room, noticing other people. Some girl was tied to a chair to her left, while Spot was tied to her right. She looked down at her herself and noticed she also was tied to the chair she was sitting in.  
"Glad to see you're finally awake." The voice came from the shadows as a man revealed himself to the dim light. He was rather tall, with black hair and intense blue eyes.  
"Who-who are you?" she managed to whisper. The man chuckled loudly, eyes full of amusement. Spot stirred next to her, as did the girl.  
"Wha? Where am I? Who da Hell are youse?" He demanded, his mind finally awake and his mysterious eyes trained on the man in front of him.  
"Why, I'm surprised at the both of you! Can't you recognize me? I'm James, better known to you children as Jamie," he said, grinning at them. The girl glared at James, the wound on her face breaking open and oozing crimson blood.  
"Jamie? I though youse were in jail?" Spot asked, glancing at Traveler. Her eyes were closed and she was muttering something in Russian.  
"I was." He noticed Traveler's muttering, walking over to her and yanking her head up by her auburn hair. "What was that? Speak up!"  
"Go to Hell, you worthless shit head!" Was yelled at him in Russian. James slapped her, blue eyes blazing.  
"Damn little slut! Think your so smart talking in a different language so I won't understand! Sam! Get your lousy butt in here!" Another man entered the room, a fit description of Slit. The unknown girl's face dropped, her almost black eyes shinning with anger and betrayal.  
"Slit! When I get out of these dang ropes I'm going to soak you so bad all of New York will hear your cries of pain!" she shouted, straining against the ropes. Sam, otherwise know as Slit, grinned.   
"That's if, my dear Ember, if we let you live," Sam said. Traveler was straining at her bonds, a look of pure anger on her face. She looks about as mad as she did when I called her a slut, Spot thought to himself. He looked between the two girls, both fuming. If Sammy and Jamie were trying to scare them, it wasn't working too well. Then he remembered something.  
"Wait a minute. What did you do to Jacky-Boy?"  
"Cowboy? Left him for dead by the bridge. Now, back to our little reunion. It's been a while, Ali, a real long while," James whispered, gently touching the mark he had given Traveler. Traveler just sat there, staring in utter shock at this man.  
"Ali? Her name's not Ali, it's Traveler Coville," Spot said, staring at James. James laughed, not looking away from Traveler's face.  
"Nice to know you kept the last name, Alison Regen Coville." Traveler's mouth dropped, and Spot took his turn to stare in shock. Ember just sat there, looking between the man and girl. She noticed the familiarity of them both, how they had the same eyes, nose, mouth. If you had changed Traveler's hair and eye color and chopped her hair short, she would have looked exactly like this man.  
"Oh my God," she whispered, staring in disbelief.  
"That's right, Ember. Your 'Traveler' here is none other than my daughter Ali."  
  
Shorty's Note: There's a twist to the story. Bet you didn't see that one coming! Hee Hee Hee! God I loving being evil! So, here's something I ask you before I go on. What do you think will happen next? Come on, tell me! I need 5 reviews before I continue, so you might as well tell me what you think will happen next. See ya! Peace out! Peachy Bye!  
  
Shorty 


	5. Rage, Anger, and Alcohol

Unless...  
Chapter 5  
By: Shorty Carter

"Hey goil! Hey, wake up!" a young boy yelled, shaking a girl who looked about his own age.  
"Wha? Where-where am-I?" she managed to get out before a coughing fit took over. The boy sat her up, waiting till her coughing had calmed down before he spoke.   
"What's your name? I'm Cowboy," he said, pulling off the extra coat Kloppman made him wear and putting it on the girl. She mumbled a thanks, shivering violently. She was cute for a little girl, with short auburn hair and emerald green eyes, her body skinny from hunger and illness. Looking into her eyes, he gasped. They held so much pain and sadness it scared him. She looked up slowly, watching him.   
"Ali."  
  
"Jack! Hey Cowboy, wake up!" Jack was shaken awake; opening his eyes to see Race's worried face. He sat up, instantly regretting it. His whole body was like one huge bruise, soar and rainbow colored.   
"They got her, Race. Sam got her, and Spot. Him and this other person. It wasn't Jamie, didn't look like him. I can't believe I let her down, I broke a promise," he whispered, standing slowly.   
"You didn't let her down, not as long as you're still breathing. Did you see which way they went?" Boots asked.   
"Yah, they went towards the old factory in Harlem. Come on, let's go," Jack said, starting towards Harlem. Yankee, Walnut, River, Happy, Race, Boots, Mush, Blink, and a few others from Brooklyn and Manhattan followed, grim expressions set on their faces.  
  
"My-my father? But how? How could I be related to.you?" Traveler whispered, shock evident on her face. Anger and rage were boiling inside of her, but she was waiting for the perfect moment to release that fight.   
"Now, that wasn't very nice, Ali! How could you say that to your own father?" James asked in a sugar-coated voice. Spot looked like he was going to be sick.   
"How could you call your own daughter a slut?" Spot demanded, glaring at the man. He didn't know why, but he was defending the very girl he was against. Something inside of him told him to do so.   
"Well, if it isn't Spot Conlon, the boy who himself is against girl newsies! And yet you let Ember here be in your little 'gang'. How quaint," Sam said, stepping up to stand beside James.  
"She's Walnut's sister, what am I supposed to do? Let my best friend's sister die on the streets? Even I'm not that cold hearted. But you, Sam, you pretend to love someone, then turn on them. If you ask me, that's worse than even me," Spot said, voice dangerously low. Traveler was surprised, turning her head to take a look at Spot. He was giving a death glare to Sam and James, his mysterious eyes narrowed. Traveler had never seen him this was, all angry and defensive. Especially when he was being defensive of two girls he didn't even approve of. Suddenly a loud bang sounded on the other side of the door. James grinned; knowing the fun was growing yet again.   
"Ladies and Gents, may I introduce the other eldest of the Hawks members: J.J., Benny, and John. Guy's, meet my daughter and her little friends." The guys who had entered the room when their name was said grinned at them. Their well-muscled bodies were swaying, while their voices were slurred. Clearly they were drunk.   
"Look, a party! But Jamie, it's smaller than the last one! Last time we had 7 kids!" J.J. exclaimed, body swaying more than the others.   
"Yah, but last time half of them escaped!" Benny shouted back, voice slurred with alcohol.  
"Great, their drunk. I hate dealing with them when they're drunk," Sam muttered, glaring at his friends.   
"Hey, guys! Come here! We have to figure out a nice deal for them!" James yelled from the doorway, pushing the others through it. As soon as they shut the door, the kids sighed a bit with relief.   
"How exactly are we getting out of here?" Ember asked, looking at the other two. Traveler's face was still alight with rage, revenge clearly on her mind.   
"I ain't going anywhere till I give my dad a 'reunion present'," Traveler replied, keeping her voice down. Quickly she slipped the knife she hid up her sleeve down into her hand, sawing at the ropes.   
"You had a knife all this time and you never used it?" Spot asked her.   
"Yah, but I couldn't exactly do anything with Jamie and Sam standin' there, now could I?" she demanded, finally cutting through the ropes. She quickly tossed them into the shadows and began working on her feet.   
"No, I suppose not. What are we going to do once we're out, though?"   
"I got an idea. Yes!" The ropes on her feet finally broke, and she immediately went to work on Spot's. Once he was free, she told him to get Ember's ropes off.   
"What are you doing?" he asked when he saw her searching through her pockets.   
"I have another knife here someplace, maybe even two."   
"Why do you carry them?"   
"When you're a traveler like me, and you visit places like Harlem and Brooklyn, you need to carry them. Plus, I got jumped in Harlem once without a knife. Wasn't a pretty sight. Ah, here we go. I thought I left them in my socks." She pulled out two knives, handing them to Spot and Ember. She took her first knife back, then motioned for them to hide in the shadows.   
"Spot, when they come in, stay low. I want to see the looks on their faces when they see we're gone. Once the drunks start going crazy, and the other two get real mad, jump them. Go for the drunks first, then after Jamie and Sam. Tell Ember," She whispered to Spot, who was closest to her. He nodded, then turned and told Ember. They quieted when the door banged open, revealing five happy men. The looks on their faces changed quickly at the site of the three empty chairs.   
"Dang, I knew we shouldn't have left them alone!" Sam yelled at James, his face clearly angry. The drunks were shocked, each of their mouths hanging open. Then it hit. They went crazy, ranting and cursing about how stupid they were to have left the kids alone and not being able to kill them. The three newsies were just about to attack when the door banged open yet again, revealing a person standing in the shadowy doorway.   
"Oh look, a party." A second person came to stand next to the first.   
"Time to crash it."


	6. A Buried Memory Returns

Unless...  
Chapter 6  
By: Shorty Carter  
  
"Hey Cowboy, Demon. What brings you to Harlem?" James asked, turning to face the two boys.  
"Ran into a few friends, here. Said you've been up to your old tricks again, Storm-me-boy. Is that true Storm?" Demon asked, walking up to James. James gulped, looking at the younger boy nervously. Demon had dark brown hair and stunning brown eyes. His nickname came from his temper, punishments and leadership skills. He was, of course, the youngest leader of the Hawks.  
"Yeah, maybe. Is that a problem, Demon?" James replied.  
"Yeah, it is Storm. It's a big problem. You've got the fricken lead of the Brooklyn newsies, the second in command's sister, and a very well known girl! Need I remind you what happened last time we fought Brooklyn?" Demon demanded.  
"Speaking of Brooklyn, where is Spot, Travel, and Ember?" Jack asked, looking around the room.  
"Right here, Jacky-boy," Spot said, stepping into the dim light followed by Traveler and Ember. Jack took on a shocked look when he saw Ember's bruised and scarred body. Demon turned from James to see the threesome. James grabbed his chance, grabbing the boy from behind and stabbing him in the back. Demon, totally caught off guard, gasped and fell to the floor, hands fumbling at the knife in his back. Traveler released the rage and anger. All Hell broke loose in the room. The group of Manhattan and Brooklyn newsies just outside the door burst in, joining the fight. A few of the newcomers rushed Demon out while the others went after the five adults. Traveler went after her father, knife ready. The three drunks fought, losing the whole time. Finally they were knocked out, and a circle formed around Sam, James, Traveler, and Ember. James threw Travel to the ground hard just as Ember sent Sam sprawling to the floor. Quick as a flash James had his knife at Ember's throat, her arms held painfully behind her back. Walnut lunged forward, but his friends held him back.  
"So you're her brother. How would you like to watch your sister die?" James asked.  
"You wouldn't," Walnut whispered lowly, brown eyes narrowed.  
"Oh, wouldn't I? Let's just see about that." Sam sat up, rubbing his head. There in front of him was Ember and James, a knife against the girl's throat. Something sparked inside of him, changing his whole life in one split second. His heart raced, the adrenaline pumping madly through his veins. He lunged at James, no Ember, knocking the knife out of his hand and pushing him against the wall. Traveler got up and lunged at her father, driving the knife deep into his stomach. Sam went to Ember, helping the gasping girl up. James sand to the ground, clutching at the knife wound in his stomach. Breathing hard, Traveler pulled away, glaring at her father even as shock took over her body.  
"Ali-I-I-I'm...s-sorry," James whispered, looking up at his daughter.  
"For what?"  
"For-for killing-y-y-your-mother...in front-of...you," he whispered, allowing his final breath to leave his body. Traveler stood there, mouth wide in shock. Suddenly it all made sense; the dreams, the realness of it, it had all been memories of her mother's final night. She slipped into memory, remembering for the first time in 14 years her final night seeing her mother alive.  
  
_Memory   
  
_ She watched from her bedroom window, anxiously awaiting her mother's return home. From down the street she saw someone running, her screams echoing through the empty alleys. Skirts flapping, she ran right up the steps of Ali's home, almost reaching the door when someone grabbed her and threw her to the ground. Ali watched helplessly as her mother was murdered, by none other than her father. When the dirty deed was done, he stood and looked around. When he noticed his daughter watching from the window, his face softened. He turned and left, disappearing into the shadows. Ali ran to her mother, crying for the last time in 14 years. The very next day she was taken to the orphanage.

_End _  
  
"I remember. Dear God, he did kill her. In front of me, for no apparent reason," Traveler whispered before collapsing to the ground in a dead faint.  
"He had a reason, he just never told anyone. But me, I had no reason for what I've done," Sam said, looking at the ground. He realized all too late what a good thing he had going for him. Ember had loved him, had given him her heart and all he had done was crush it. He had turned his back on her, and now he was turning his back on his gang. His future didn't look too great from here. He turned to Ember, looking up into her dark eyes. "Ember, I'm so sorry. For everything. But I will not hurt you any longer. I've betrayed you, and my gang. These streets are no longer safe for me. So I'm leaving." With that he turned and left the room, leaving behind a very confused girl and a bewildered bunch of boys.  
"Guys, we'd better get Travel home," Skittery said, lifting up the girl in his arms.  
"Which home?" Spot asked, looking over the knife Traveler had given him.  
"Her time ain't up at Manhattan. Come on, let's go home. I hear the bull's comin'," Jack said, leaving the Harlem factory behind.  
  
Shorty's Note: There ya go, folks! The 6th chapter. Thankies go out to Slick! For one, she reviewed, for two, she actually updated! And for all my other devoted fans, thankies too! Allright, here's da deal. No, I'm not gonna kill anyone. One last chapter! How's dat sound? Peachy! Alright, review! Peachy Bye! Peace Out! And above all, See Ya!  
  
Shorty


	7. The End, Or Is It?

Unless..  
Chapter 7  
By: Shorty Carter

A strong breeze whipped though her auburn hair as she made her way to the D.O. She smiled at the sight of shouting boys and an angry Weasel, who seemed to get more tomato like with each passing newsie.   
"Travel! How you doin'?" Blink yelled, seeing the girl walk in. She grinned, glad to be out and about.   
"Not bad, Blink! Heya Race, how's it rollin'?" she asked, walking up to the gambler. He smiled, knocking her hat over her eyes.   
"Good to see you moving," he said,talking through his cigar.   
"Ha ha, very funny. Hey Sniper, Skitt. How's the thief and the downer?"   
"Ain't you the funny one? Glad to see you're still the sharp-tongued girl I knew," Skittery said, slinging an arm around her shoulders.   
"Yah, yah. And you can add hot tempered to that if a certain Brooklyn leader shows up," Traveler replied, standing in line.   
"Hey Spot! What brings you to Manhattan?" Jack yelled as that certain Brooklyn leader walked into the D.O.   
"Speak of the Devil," Traveler muttered, not looking at the leader.   
"Came to finish a little business. She is awake, isn't she?" Spot asked, looking around the D.O. Traveler never looked up.   
"Yah, she's awake, here too," Boots piped in.   
"Note to self, soak Boots at Tibby's," Traveler muttered to herself.   
"Heya Travel," someone said behind her. She turned, just barely holding herself against permanently removing that smirk of his.  
"Oh hey Spot! When did you decide to grace us with your presence?" she asked, smiling sweetly.   
"Since I wondered if you were actually awake or not. Got a few things to settle with you," Spot said, leaning against the wall.   
"Yah? Like what?" she asked, curious. Usually when Spot had a few things to settle with her, it meant she'd walk away with very colorful skin.   
"Like that I'm sorry," he whispered, not looking at her. Anyone else who heard knew better than to say anything about it. Travel just stood there, mouth open.   
"Excuse me? Did I just hear you say sorry? Alright, who are you and where is the real Spot Conlon?" she asked, taking the bull by the horns.   
"Yah, you heard me. I'm sorry for treating you like crap. It was.oh what's the word?"  
"Wrong? Stupid? Idiotic? Dumb?" she asked, grinning. He looked up, mysterious eyes laughing.   
"Yah yah. Shut up already," he said grinning at her.  
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I forgive you," she told him, stepping back in line.  
"Forgiveness from Traveler Coville? God this day is getting odder by the minute."  
"Ansa grop," she said, smiling.  
"Which means?" Spot asked.  
"You'll figure it out eventually, Conlon." She reached Weasel, holding 50 cents, inspecting it carefully. Weasel looked at the money longingly.  
"How many?" he demanded, eyes fixed on the money.  
"I don't know if you deserve this, Mr. Weasel. You haven't exactly been nice to anyone, have you?" Traveler asked, flipping the coin.  
"How would you know? I haven't even seen you for, what, two days?" Weasel growled.   
Translated from Russian to English: "Temper, temper Weasel. If I wanted to, I could kick your sorry ass from here to Russia. But I don't want to, so go fuck a tree, ass hole."   
"What did you say?" Weasel demanded, confused and angry.   
"100 papes, Mr. Weasel. Then I'll be on my way," she replied, grinning. A snicker came from behind the counter, from a blond haired, blue eyed boy. Weasel turned around, yelling at the boy. The boy's face dropped, his blue eyes looking at Traveler. She knew the boy well; he was a Russian immigrant, and one of Traveler's greatest friends.   
"Don't worry Acts, he's just an ass. Meet me tonight?" she yelled to him in Russian. He grinned and nodded, going back to work.   
"Way ta show em Travel!" Bumlet's said when she joined the rest of her friends.   
"Yah well, someone had to. Come on, we got papes to sell. Who am I sellin' with?" she yelled, rewarded by shouts of, "I want to!"  
"Good to know I'm loved! Dutchy, my man! Come on, let's go carry the banner!" With that they left, the streets filing with their shouts.  
  
"I sentence you to 40 years in jail, or a 250 dollar fine. Court adjourned." With that the three men were hauled into the carriage, all of them laughing. "Wow, 40 years," Benny said, grinning madly.  
"We'll be out in a week, two tops," John said, laughing loudly.  
"They don't even know the whole story. Only 20 people. Ha! We've killed 2 times that!" J.J. yelled, wanting the bulls to gloated.  
"Now, where's our next target?" Benny asked. The threesome launched into plans for their next "deal".  
  
Two weeks later the papes reported a jail brake of three men   
Two weeks later the newsie strike started   
Four weeks later the "deal" was put into action   
Four weeks later a girl was thrown into an alley


End file.
